


Tiny Earthquakes

by IndianSummer13



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pining, Romance, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndianSummer13/pseuds/IndianSummer13
Summary: She didn’t choose to fall in love with him.Things like that, they just happen.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 36
Kudos: 122





	Tiny Earthquakes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece for the Strike fandom and something I've had in my head since I finished Lethal White. If you haven't read the book, this contains a couple of spoilers.

Given the circumstances, one might be forgiven for thinking Robin Ellacott (formally Robin  _ Cunliffe, _ and even more formally, Robin  _ Ellacott _ again) had fallen in love with Cormoran Strike the day he had showed up to her wedding.

In fact, it had happened long before that - and long after it, evidently - until she’d been falling for so long that even she can’t pinpoint the day she’d first felt  _ it _ .

He hands her a mug of tea, strong and dark, just as she likes it, and she pushes the open packet of biscuits towards the edge of her desk.

“I thought we were being good?” he half-smiles, taking one anyway. 

“Call it a treat,” Robin replies. “Being good’s no use if you can’t reward yourself now and again is it?”

Strike raises his eyebrows and takes a large bite, devouring half in one go. “I’m not going to argue.” He sprays crumbs and she can’t find it within her to mind. “Now, how’s the social media looking?”

He rounds her desk to view the pictures of their client’s wife for himself anyway, and Robin feels her cheeks flush as her boss (no,  _ partner _ ) leans over her shoulder. He maintains a distance of course, knowing as he does of her panic attacks, but she can still smell him everywhere. It’s the cigarettes mixed with shower gel and that other scent she still hasn’t quite figured out which makes her mouth water.

She spends a lot of time these days thinking about how Cormoran Strike smells.

He slurps his tea and it should be annoying but it isn’t, and Robin finds herself leaning back in her chair ever-so-slightly.

“New shampoo?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your hair smells different.”

“Oh.” She finds herself self-consciously stroking the ends. “I bought one of those bars from Lush.” Her cheeks are hotter now and she daren’t turn round for fear of being found out.

“Lush?”

“It’s a cosmetics store. The whole place smells of their products. You’d hate it.”

Strike makes a gruff noise at the back of his throat which signals the end of the conversation but that noise makes her think of other things. More  _ carnal _ things.

There’s a tiny thrill that runs up her spine at the thought of him smelling her hair.

She wants to know how his smells, too. 

-

Later in the day they discuss their work over drinks at The Tottenham. They do this often now that Matthew isn’t around to be cross with her for coming home late and Lorelai isn’t waiting in the flat above her vintage shop.

Strike buys them both a second round and Robin feels her body grow heavier under the effects of the wine. The windows are steamed up and against the backdrop of condensation and fog, he listens intently as she recounts the surveillance she’d done earlier. Even as she’s talking she can see how he’s watching her, and really, she’s grateful for the table between them which is probably the only thing preventing her from leaning across to kiss him.

As it turns out, drinking on an empty stomach isn’t a good idea.

They settle in for a third drink. He’d bought the previous two and she feels like she’s taking advantage so while he’s at the toilet, Robin orders.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?” he grins, taking a sip.

“Last one,” she says. The words are slightly slurred but he chuckles and she finds herself grinning too.

“Sensible.”

-

He doesn’t want her to go back to Nick and Ilsa’s on her own.

“It’s only two trains Cormoran,” she tells him. He knows that of course. 

“Exactly. Only two trains back once I’ve seen you home.”

She loves him.

When the train lurches as it pulls out of Tottenham Court Road, the only thing that saves Robin from falling on her face is her partner’s chest. He makes a sort-of  _ oof _ sound as her body crashes into his but rather than stepping back, he stays steady, helping her balance with a hand at the small of her back.

“Sorry,” she apologises.

For a moment, Strike doesn’t say anything. And then, “Bloody tube drivers.”

It makes her laugh. 

Between the station and Nick and Ilsa’s house is a Lebonese restaurant, bookmakers and an Italian place with a fading sign and red and green fairy lights in the window. Instead of continuing along the road, Strike heads towards the door of the trattoria.

“What’re you doing?”

“Stopping you from getting a terrible hangover,” he says simply, holding the door open for her. “Can’t promise it’ll stop you getting one completely though.”

“Cormoran -”

His voice is insistent but gentle. “- Don’t argue Robin. I’m starving anyway.”

The waiter brings them water and two bread rolls, both of which Strike eats with an unhealthy amount of butter. True to his word, he devours his meatball pasta while Robin, immediately grateful for her food once it arrives, watches his hands turn his fork.

She has many,  _ many _ thoughts about his hands.

-

“You didn’t have to do this you know,” she says once they reach Nick and Ilsa’s door. The past ten minutes he’s walked with more of a limp than when they’d first set out and Robin feels guilty. 

“Just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Before she can really register what she’s doing, she reaches out a hand to his chest, resting her palm at the opening in his long wool coat. They’re already standing pretty close - close enough for her to feel his warm breath despite the height difference - but she moves nearer.

“Thank you.”

He’s looking at her. At her lips. At her eyes. At her lips again.

Robin can feel the warmth of his chest under her palm and she curls it slightly when Strike’s arms take her elbows to draw her in even further. She doesn’t realise she’s on her tiptoes until his lips meet hers.

They’re not soft. They’re a little chapped from the cold weather and despite the fact that he hasn’t smoked this evening, she can taste the Benson and Hedges he favours. She feels warm everywhere - every part of her - when she feels him smile against her mouth.

Only when they part does she realise she’s smiling back.

Strike clears his throat once and then again. He’s still smiling when he says, “Night, Robin.”

His eyes are shining and her voice is a little breathy when she replies. “Goodnight.”

He steps back and Robin slips her key into the lock. Satisfied she’s home safe, he turns to head back to the station, coat flapping out behind him in the cold air.

“Cormoran,” she calls, and he turns back towards her. “Maybe call a cab - save your leg from aching.”

He gives her that lopsided smile and her heart flutters. “Will do.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always greatly appreciated.


End file.
